The Dark Half
by Filmnoir102
Summary: Seven years after the Dogfather; Grace and Karnage have settled down and gotten married, and had two children together. Life could not possibly be more perfect. But everything is not as it appears; as shadows grow and threaten their idyllic life...
1. Chapter One

**Chapter One**

1945 had started as an unremarkable year. The war was still going on overseas in countries like Pierredonia, Japen and Freedonia; but here in Usland really all that was going on was rationing, drives and more rationing and drives. Grace was still unnerved at the thought of having a bomb shelter built into the backyard, but so far they'd never had to use it (not even for drills), but blackouts had been quite frequent; and she'd had to purchase heavy black silk curtains for that exact purpose (even though for her children; the blackouts were a fun game).

A slushy winter had come and gone, followed by a mild, breezy spring; and it was now July 11th. Leo and Alice's sixth birthday. Per usual; there was a massive party, and Karnage had invited the entire crew. It was as almost as overblown an affair as his own birthday; and the wolf fully expected his children to be lavished upon and treated like royalty on their shared special day.

Sitting and massaging her high-heel-clad feet; Grace was sitting in the yard and playing crowd control as she always did at parties, scoping through the crowd for familiar faces out of pure habit; even though she knew everyone here.

Inside, in the kitchen, Alice and Leo's cake had been brought out, although the cake had mysteriously vanished moments after she'd turned her back on setting it down on the table. She'd just gone to the living room to get something or other; and upon coming back it was gone.

Seeing Karnage; Grace rose, wiped her grass-covered skirt and went to him.

"Where's the cake? And no; it wasn't eaten already. There was nobody in the kitchen, I just went out of the room for a second and... it was gone."

"I was downstairs weeth Hal een de pool room. I deedn't see anything."

"You play pool with Hal?"

"Si; I do."

"I think Leo and Alice took the cake….And I'm going to make sure they pay somehow even if it is their birthday."

They chatted briskly for a little more before going their separate ways; Grace dead-set on finding who took the cake, especially if it was her own children, along with a certain troublemaking pair known as Eli Barnhart (Hal and Melina's son- they had married several years earlier) and Elisa Hawley….

* * *

Four young creatures were hidden away in Alice's bedroom. It was a spacious, wide room with bluish wallpaper containing Alice's bed, her books, toys, and other such things. Alice and Elisa were sitting on her bed, Eli and Leo on the floor.

The four of them had made out like little thieves, sneaking the cake up the stairs from the kitchen but nobody had dared to even lick it yet. Alice was wearing a light, pink cotton sweater and a brown skirt and her glasses as always. (she couldn't see a thing without them) and Elisa (aged eight) was wearing hand-me-down red overalls and a white shirt. Leo looked like a pint-sized buisnessman in his impeccably white shirt and brown pants perfectly tucked in- with his hazel eyes and dark fur, his resemblance to his mother was nothing short of remarkable. Eli, who cared little about fashion at three years old; was wearing a little green jacket and matching shorts.

"This is so boring!"

Elisa whined.

"Alice, are we ever gonna eat the cake?"

"Nah."

Alice grinned cunningly.

"Let's go show the adults what we took and see what they'll do. If they tell us to take the cake back we can always hide it and then eat it."

"Well, what's in it for me, Alice? You're always coming up with these fancy schemes but I never get anything."

"Well….uh….how about we give you extra pieces of the cake? That's the best I can do."

Alice said, her ears drooping slightly.

Leo scowled.

"Okay…."

On the floor, Eli said nothing. He both feared and adored the older children, but Elisa's attitude and gritty personality alone mostly cowed him into silence. He had no real part in the plan; he just followed them along. And since the kitten had a reputation of being a tattletale, Alice, Leo and Elisa didn't hesitate in letting him tag along.

Carefully, Alice lifted the cake (plate and all) from the bed.

"Alice, your plans are awful!."

Leo called from the floor.

"No, they aren't. Yours are!"

Alice pulled a tongue at Leo before fixing him with a callous glare.

"Yeah, Leo. Alice is in charge here; so you better not tell her what to do."

Elisa informed the wolfdog.

"Well she's MY sister!"

"Yeah, and MY cousin! Even if we do fight all the time."

Effectively, this shut Leo up but he still gave Eli and the girls a stony glare as they departed Alice's room.

"Elisa, can you hold the cake for a second? I forgot something on the floor."

After handing over the cake to her cousin, Alice dashed back into her room and saw what was possibly her biggest prize:

Her father's cutlass; which she'd managed to pilfer from the living room mantle when no one was looking. She doubted even he knew it was gone yet.

Emerging with the very real, non-reproduction sword stuck through her makeshift rope belt, Alice walked out to the bedroom. She took the cake back from Elisa and the four of them all went down the stairs to show Alice's parents.

* * *

"…I swear, it was right on the table!"

Grace was jabbing at the spot where the cake used to be in the kitchen when Eli, Leo, Elisa and Alice came stampeding in; Alice wearing her father's cutlass strapped to her waist!

Grace's jaw dropped as she saw the ragtag group make their entrance.

"We did it! We took the cake!"

Elisa squealed, and stepped forward to reveal Leo was holding it now, begrudgingly.

"...But she did everything."

Elisa indicated the grinning Alice.

"And uh…Daddy I... _Borrowed_ your cutlass."

Karnage turned to face Alice and Leo alone.

"Stole from your own papa and I deedn't know eet…."

He shook his head slowly.

"I have never been more proud than I am now!"

Grace turned to him, somewhat angrily.

"Felipe, did you put them up to this?"

Alice came to her father's defense.

"No, mommy. I did it myself. It was all my own idea. I wanted to do something to make dad proud of me."

Wrapping an arm around her squirming brother she said mischievously:

"Leo didn't want to do it but when he had a cutlass at his throat…." Grace's eyes widened.

"YOU DID WHAT?!"

"Your cutlass."

Ignoring her mother's shocked outburst, Alice shakily handed her father his sword back and almost fell over from the weight.

"Dad!"

Leo squealed in fear.

"She threatened me with the turnips and the sandpaper!"

Just then, Hal came in; banging the screen door behind him. He scoffed.

"Leo, she did not!"

Eli ran to his father's arms.

"Daddy!"

Hal scooped up Eli.

"Ahh, you're just like your old man! Tough as nails!"

Alice laughed as Grace swept up the cake and deposited it on the table.

"Foiled again!"

Something rattled and shifted on the floor by Alice's footpaws. It was a small brown burlap bag. She undid the drawstring, revealing it to be full of change.

"I took this from Leo's sock drawer!"

Leo glowered at her.

Karnage's jaw dropped.

"Someone get de camera before you move anything! This ees for posterity!"

Turning to Leo, he said

"And you my son, someday you weel get your first plunder as well."

Leo's face was still molded into a bitter scowl.

Grace sighed as she went to get her old camera, a relic of her years in Cape Suzette. She and Karnage both shared different opinions on just about everything, but especially jobs; and more-so on the illegality of his.

_It's your children's birthday._

Grace reassured herself.

_Just relax, have fun._

And besides; she loved her husband and on days like this she was too happy to argue.

The party eventually ended with a bang; and all the pirates panicked and fled for home when a police car drove down the street. It was probably just a local officer making his daily rounds, but the Pirates were all too nerve-fried to think anything else, so by five all the cars that had packed onto the street were gone; and dinner came and went.

It was an unfortunate ending to a day that had, up to that point; had been full of fun and laughter, and perhaps even only the beginning of things yet to come.


	2. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

The news came at exactly seven on a foggy Tuesday morning; when someone broadcasted over the radio:

_…We interrupt this broadcast to bring you this breaking news from the Usland Embassy: Japen has surrendered. I **repeat**: Japen has surrendered! This war has come to an end._

Grace spat out her coffee and shouted:

"Yes!"

And in an instant, she was racing back up the stairs towards the bedroom; filled with joy and her whole body weightless. Freedonia had already surrendered the previous May; and now that Japen had done the same, _the_ _war was finally over!_

"Felipe! Felipe! The war is over! Japen surrendered!"

Grace over to the bed and in a brave move, shook the groggy Karnage, who was still muttering nonsense about frosty pep ice cream in his sleep, and believe it or not; sucking a finger. Grace stifled a giggle as she exclaimed:

"They surrendered! It's FINALLY over!"

Yawning, Karnage hugged her groggily as Grace filled him in.

* * *

Eventually, the wolf was off to celebrate the end of the war the way only he could- by going out to plunder now that the skies were finally safe from something other than himself. Grace had been planning to speak with her husband about his ongoing illegal activities, but as usual she was just too afraid of his reaction. She shoved her fear to the back of her mind and tried to enjoy the day.

Grace hadn't felt this happy in forever. She felt like years had been shaved from her actual age- years brought on by the stress and worry that had dominated the past four years of her life. But not today. All of a sudden; the days of rationing, fear of sudden air raids, blackouts, and paranoia in general were gone, and she was free.

At first, Grace felt inclined to just skip a day from work and make a sandwich. And yet, she hesitated.

_Come on, Grace! How often is a day like this going to come up?! Take advantage of your situation and seize the day!_

So Grace asked Alice and Leo (who were soon to start school again) what they wanted to do, and the answer was unanimous:

"Can we go to the beach? Pleeeeasseeeee?"

Looking at those faces and pleading eyes, Grace knew she was damned if she could just say no to these children and not feel terrible about it later.

"Yes. We can go to the beach."

Grace said, smiling.

"Yay!"

"Thanks mom!"

Alice and Leo were in the backseat of the car almost at the blink of an eye, and their mother soon found herself behind the wheel and pulling out of the driveway.

West Shore, the nearest beach; was just out of town and fifteen minutes away.

Grace took a few shortcuts along the road and was able to get there in just over ten.

Alice and Leo went racing out of the car and onto the sand. Grace was laughing; it was a gamble to catch up with those two.

Shielding her eyes from the sun all the while, Grace glanced about at the haven that was West Shore: rolling dunes and bits of sea glass and driftwood abound on the shore, and there was a playground a little farther east.

"Leo, Alice! Wait for me! Your old mother has to keep up too, you know."

Grace was smiling as she continued to pursue them.

"What do you guys want to do?"

Both of them gave this some thought.

Leo spoke after a while:

"Mom, can we beachcomb, and go to the playground, and then get ice cream?"

"And then the carousel?"

Alice chimed in hopefully.

Grace gave this some thought. On any other day she would have given all these requests a flat out 'No!' but because the war was over, and she just had so much to be happy for; today Grace decided she'd oblige all her children's wishes just to give them a day to remember and tell their own children someday.

"Yes, we can. But only this once. We're not rich you know…. not entirely."

They went farther down to the shore for beachcombing, and all three found themselves kneeling in the damp surf, getting their paws wet and gritty as they searched for 'treasures' in the pliable sand.

Nobody found anything; and Alice was a little disappointed. Leo however, seemed more interested in swimming, but Grace told him:

"Well, you never mentioned anything about swimming before we left the house; so I didn't bother asking. But if you want I'll let you go up to your knees. Is that okay, Leo?"

He nodded vigorously.

"Thanks, mom!"

Grinning, Leo waded out into the surf while Grace and Alice remained.

"Mommy, can you help me make a sand castle?"

Already Alice was sculpting together mounds of dampened sand with her paws, and Grace could see her daughter had some skill.

"Sure, honey."

By the time Leo came back from his wade-in, Grace and Alice's sandcastle had been partially destroyed by several stray waves, but Grace reassured her solemn daughter:

"It's okay; we can always come back and build another one the next time."

And soon, Alice was just as excited about going to the playground as Leo, and with that they headed off.

For the next twelve minutes, Grace sat on a narrow bench under a shaded tree and couldn't help but smile as her children slid down slides, played on the monkey bars, and climbed the old driftwood-carved play structure that had been there who knows how long.

It was so old, creaky, and had just enough (but not a very big) chance of being dangerous that Grace knew her husband would have a heart attack if he saw their- children playing here.

Eventually, Alice and Leo tired of the playground, and headed off to the boardwalk so fast Grace had to sprint to keep up with them.

Alice and Leo used fifty cents apiece from their hard-earned chore money to get on the carousel; in which they spent time riding intricately decorated and bright-colored gorilla birds (much prettier than the real things!) while somewhere, cheerful music was played on a record or wind-up music box.

After that, Grace paid out of her own pocket and bought Alice and Leo two small ice cream cones, mint for him and strawberry for her.

"You have no idea how much I love you both."

Grace murmured as she sat on the sand and hugged both of her children to her. The sea sighed behind them, and Leo snuggled his head in her lap. Alice quietly licked her strawberry ice cream cone; but it was fast melting into a pooling reddish mess.

"Mommy... I'm tired now."

Alice whispered, her eyes growing heavy.

"I know, baby. Do you want to go home?"

"Yes."

Grace glanced at Leo.

He looked oddly bitter but only nodded.

As Leo went to the car with Alice in tow, Grace paused to glance at her watch. She almost let out a surprised gasp. It was noon!

_Well, I guess time really does fly when you're having fun!_

She thought, and turned the car around for home.

Glancing back at her children, Grace saw that soon they were asleep in the backseat even though it was so early; no doubt exhausted from that long day at the beach.

"Come on, let's see if we can beat your father home."

Grace murmured half to herself, smiling.

The dog winced as a spear of pain went through her stomach. She'd been having those a lot lately; along with the occasional odd mood swing, as well as nausea and cravings for foods she normally hated. All this was enough to give her pause. Just a little.

_Am I…..could I be….?_

She thought, incredulous. Grace had never seriously considered having children again after Alice and Leo were born- two babies at once had kept her busy enough- but now that they were getting older, a third child was not necessarily out of the question any longer.

"Well, I'll be damned…."

Grace murmured softly, and fondly stroked her stomach. She hoped she was pregnant. If so; then this day had just gotten so much better. Not that it had been bad! No, August 14th, 1945 had been a day of celebration for Grace, and she knew in her heart that this was definitely a day that was going to be marked on the calendar.


	3. Chapter Three

**Chapter Three**

Meanwhile, in Old York City (in the Uslandian state of the same name) that was not quite 500 miles from Southshire in the state of Urbandale, Baloo van Bruinwald breathed in the tangy salt air of the sea and tried to drown out the sound of chattering military personnel around him.

"Ahh, it sure feels good to be back!"

Now thirty-nine, Baloo had been pressed into service back in 1943 for the draft and had joined up in the Usland Air Force.

For the past two years he'd been stationed overseas in Londinium, the capital city of Anglia following the Freedonian Schwarzerblitz or Operation Black Lightning; which had been the nonstop bombing of the city from 1939-1940. Usland hadn't been involved then (not having joined the war until 1941) but Baloo still got a general sense of fear while in Londinium, and did not usually stay out at night out of fear of new raids.

But most of the time there had been little activity in the Anglician side of the war, and Baloo had safely been able to write back to Molly, Kit (now 19), Wildcat and Rebecca back in Usland. And it was Kit who was going to be waiting for him at the station to take him back home where he belonged; at Higher for Hire and Cape Suzette!

As the gangplank of the tugboat _Francine_ was being lowered, Baloo's thoughts were on Kit. He'd rarely seen his young navigator the past almost-three years apart from his leave on holidays, and he could scarcely wait to get in touch with Kit again.

"Don't trouble me with troubles man, I'm gone!"

Baloo half-sang half-hummed as he wove his way through the throng and glanced up at the sky. It was a typical gray day in Old York, and the skyline was silhouetted impressively against the muggy August sky.

Hopelessly lost, Baloo traveled northwest from the docks to Timed Square, the whole city seemed to be rejoicing over the wars end. Confetti was thrown out of apartment windows (and those who had no confetti threw torn newspapers), there was a ticker-tape parade, swing concerts all around, and the returning soldiers and sailors were all returning to nothing less than a heroes' welcome.

Checking his watch, Baloo saw he still had almost half an hour before his train to Cape Suzette would be here. Still some time to horse around in the city some more before heading on home.

Walking past the famous Frosty Pep ice cream sign in the Square, Baloo's heart throbbed in his chest. A female black bear wearing a delicate blue sweater over the plain uniform of a military nurse was trotting past him. Her eyes were a cool hazel, and beset with smug confidence; and with smooth, shoulder-length black hair. Baloo felt his heart melt; she couldn't have been any older than thirty-one.

"Um…Hello there, miss."

"Hello."

she said shyly.

"And who're you?"

"Baloo van Bruinwald, ma'am, Air Force staff sergeant. And who, little miss, might you be?"

"Evey Winters, just got back from duty myself."

Craning her narrow neck to the ever-constant flow of swing music, Evey grinned.

"Wanna dance?"

"I…I don't see why not ma'- Evey!"

Baloo blushed, but he took Evey's paw in his own and soon they were on their feet and doing one of the most popular dances of that era- the Lindy Hop.

When the song ended and he planned to continue his walk to the station, Baloo's blush got even worse as he felt Evey's mouth over his. A photographer had been passing by at the time, and Baloo and Evey's kiss was frozen in time forever, immortalized.

The two of them made their separate ways; and neither Baloo nor Evey had any idea that their picture would soon be plastered on the front cover of _Lives Magazine_.

On the train back to Cape Suzette; Baloo sat next to Kit, who was reading a newspaper. As they talked, he couldn't help but think _Hmm. I wonder what Karnie's doin'..._

* * *

Francisco diVenazetti was not a dog of patience but he was one of virtue, humility and good looks. Just twenty-four years old, he had a look of cold overconfidence to him; and had dark, rusty reddish-brown fur and blue eyes that were so fragilely pale numerous creatures often asked him if he were blind. Francisco would wave them off good-naturedly and say, "My friend, I can see just as good as you can!"

Francisco never wore anything less than a suit, and today he wore a navy blue, pinstriped one with matching pants and patent leather shoes. He hummed jovially as he glanced up at the sky. It was a grayish afternoon; and with the threat of rain, most of the people celebrating the war's end had taken their merriment indoors. All the better for him to slip about unnoticed.

Paws in his pocket, Francisco hummed an 1890's tune called 'Turkey in the straw'. The son of the late Don Luciano diVenazetti; Francisco had been born in 1921 to Luciano and an anonymous wolf prostitute. His handsomeness was more than enough to make young women swoon and sigh, and as his adoring, spoiling father had always told him: "Son, ya get more flies with honey than vinegar."

Luciano had cherished Francisco and kept him close; and although Francisco had spent the first fourteen years of his life in an orphanage (before being told he was 'too old' and to go make his own living, which he did.) his father had visited often; always making sure his son was blessed with toys (and later, weapons), books, and good food and clothes even after he started living on his own. It was in this way that Francisco had learned to be a gentleman, as well as a Don. And a killer.

Francisco stopped walking and unfolded the note his spy had sent him. It had been done ransom-note style, and spelled out with different fonts from magazine and newspaper ads and read:

_Old subway on Mortimer Street._

"This seems to be it…hhmmm…."

The stairs Francisco had descended down were brownstone, but coated in layers of mold, dust, and dead insects. Red paint peeled from the otherwise bare concrete walls, and a smell of filth and rot was in the air. Francisco wrinkled his nose in disgust but kept going, spurred on as he saw a group of a dozen or so dogs sitting on what had once been a train track (The Mortimer Street subway had closed in 1898.)

"Good afternoon, gentlemen!"

Francisco tried to keep his voice level but low as he jogged up.

Several graying, aged heads turned towards him and Francisco exhaled deeply. This was where his agent had told him the remnants of his father's mob were located. Even if it took him years, he'd have to find a way to get them under his control.

"What you want, you smug little son-of-a-bitch?"

A brindled Spanish mastiff in his mid-sixties was staring at Francisco. Francisco stared back with his jarringly pale eyes.

"I have come to resurrect my father Luciano's failing family! Don't I deserve a warm welcome?"

The reaction he got was mixed with laughter and worried murmurs.

"Luciano's little boy? As in our old boss? You're good, kid. Real good. What's your name, you punk?"

"My name…."

Francisco smiled warmly.

"Gentlemen, my name is Francisco Marco Carmelo DiVenazetti. And I **am** Luciano's son."

"Yeah, and I'm your kid brother."

The mastiff grunted under his breath.

"The name's Alberto. Alberto Bagala and Don to you."

"And why, my good sir, should I answer to a dusty, decrepit old fossil such as yourself?!"

This set Alberto off. His eyes were alight with rage, but several of his cohorts laughed.

"Haha, he got you good, Al!"

Francisco dragged Alberto by the collar of his overcoat and pushed him against the farthest wall. Growling in a vehement voice, he whispered:

"I have done all that I can to convince you I'm a son of Venazetti. Do you require any more proof, you prehistoric excuse for a Don?"

"If you're Luciano's son, then who's your mother?"

"My mother was a prostitute."

"I don't believe that. The boss never kept romantic relationships with anybody, not even whores."

"So, you still don't believe me?"

"No. I don't."

Slowly, Francisco drew a Freedonian-imported Luger from his pocket and pointed it at Alberto's mouth. Alberto tried to squirm away but soon was mesmerized by the shimmering platinum grip that he could see his reflection in. Francisco whispered callously:

"Goodbye, you pitiful former Don."

And pulled the trigger. The bullet hit Alberto in the mouth, and he gagged; coughing blood and clutching at his throat. Then, he staggeringly backed against the wall, collapsed, and died.

"Have I convinced you now; that I'm my father's son?"

Francisco's melodramatic but handsomely overconfident voice rang out through the tunnels.

He got a mixed reception; but most everyone muttered uneasily under their breaths.

"Well, if you can kill old Albert just like that I guess you got our respect."

"Good. I'm glad we're on friendly relations now!"

Pausing, Francisco backed against the wall.

"Does anyone here know the slime who killed my father?"

"Uh…Don Felipe Karnage, sir…."

"Karnage?! The SCUM!"

Francisco roared, before continuing coolly.

"Do tell me more…."

"Well, if you want to know about Karnage you can talk to Shere Khan. He's got spies everywhere, he'll know…."

"Excuse me."

Francisco ran from the subway and into the graying daylight, scrambling to find a pay phone. He dropped in a couple quarters and dialed Khan Industries' number. He bickered with some annoying secretaries for a few minutes before _finally_ being put through to Khan himself.

"Yes, this is Shere Khan, entrepreneur and millionaire. And you are?"

"Francisco diVenazetti."

"Venazetti…. Are you related to a Luciano diVenazetti?"

"Of course. He was my father!"

"Your father Luciano and I have had….a history. Involving one Don Felipe Karnage."

"KARNAGE?!"

"Er…Yes. What about him?"

"The son of a BITCH killed my FATHER!"

Francisco interjected, struggling to keep calm.

Khan remained. He sensed an opportunity here.

"Mr. DiVenazetti….How would you be interested in working with me, say in tracking down Karnage? I have spies everywhere. He doesn't even know. I will call you; and as soon as there is an opportunity I will give you the chance to follow him and shoot him. Fatally."

"Well Mr. Khan I happen to have a….."

"Gang? Mob? Criminal underground? Yes, yes, you may bring your little friends along! Come to my office if you want to know more. In fact, come there **now**."

Francisco needed no second bidding. He smiled slyly and hung up the phone.

* * *

Two days later; August 16th dawned gray and overcast. Grace awoke to find the bed empty beside her and checked the alarm clock. 8:01.

"I wonder where Felipe is…."

She thought aloud, yawning.

"Oh, right. We're leaving today."

Following the war's end; a twelve-day trip to Karnageport (where they hadn't visited since 1942) had been planned, and Grace found herself actually looking forward somewhat. Throwing a robe on over her pajamas, she groggily descended the stairs and wandered into the kitchen, calling.

"You up, Felipe?"

And was met with a

"Si!"

Upon entering, Grace found Karnage sitting at the oak table, dressed already and drinking some coffee.

"You're up early."

Pausing, Grace added:

"We're leaving today, aren't we?"

"Si, querida."

He leaned back in his chair.

Noticing she was still groggy and in her pajamas, Karnage added:

"Take all de time you need."

"Thanks. I doubt even the kids are up yet."

Grace paused.

"How long of a drive is it to Karnageport again? It's been so long."

"I am theenking….Three hours."

Grace sighed. This would not be a fun ride with two six-year-olds along.

"Where will we be staying?"

Karnage paused, obviously in thought.

"I know a leetle hotel called de Sunlight Lounge. I've stayed dere before….Great food, great service….de windows in de rooms are prisms."

Grace sat down and leaned across the table, grinning mischievously as she poured herself a bowl of that cereal Leo was always eating.

"You think I'll like it?"

"Si! Dere's rainbows all over de walls because of de windows… I was dere when I was…"

"How old were you?"

"Three I theenk. I've stayed dere more den once but that's de first time I remember… Mi madre…"

Here Karnage swallowed hard.

"Was paying for something in de lobby, I was running around chasing rainbows."

He smiled wistfully nonetheless.

"I think I'll get dressed and pack early. See you around."

They hugged briefly, and Grace breezed out.

* * *

Meanwhile, hours went by. Golden sunlight shone down on Francisco diVenazetti. He pulled his suit coat more tightly around him and adjusted the black sunglasses around his eyes. His mission was clear and simple: Follow Karnage en route to his birthplace of Karnageport and search whatever car he might be traveling. If possible; shoot Karnage. Fatally. Khan had explained the mission to him last night (He had spies in Southshire; and the idea gave Francisco more than a few cold chills), and all he had to do now was go find Karnage. He'd been given a detailed description of Karnage's vehicle; and it was time to start searching.

"Let the game begin…."

Francisco murmured, and climbed into in his own car; a '30 back Cadillac Imperial, and drove off north.

Meanwhile, almost at the same time, Grace and Karnage were in the car and had long finished packing and preparing (the suitcases were all packed and sitting in the trunk), and after Alice and Leo had devoured some cereal for breakfast, they were off.

Grace had handed the steering wheel over to Karnage (he knew that Karnageport-bound roads far better than she did) and as they pulled out of the driveway, Grace started belting out at the top of her lungs:

"O solo mio…..Oh sol-to-you-ohhh…."

Before murmuring to Karnage

"You're more contagious than I give you credit for!"

"Moooommmmm….."

Leo sobbed, and buried his face between his paws.

"You're so old-fashioned!"

Alice chimed in.

"Can't help it."

Grace chortled.

"I grew up in the 1910s. All part of the nostalgia."

Grace threw her head back and continued to belt out classic turn-of-the-century songs until they were well out of Southshire. Oddly, she almost swore a black, old-ish Cadillac was trailing them. Almost.

* * *

Ninety-four minutes into the drive, it was now 11:57. The nearest restaurant turned out to be a 20's-style diner (probably a converted speakeasy) located on the side of the road, and Karnage pulled the car to a stop.

"Mommy, are we almost to Karnageport?"

Alice had already leaped out of the car and was tugging on Grace's skirt.

"Almost, Alice. We'll keep driving after lunch."

Alice squealed in excited, little-girl happiness and ran up the brick steps to the diner.

"I'm gonna beat you, Leo!"

"No fair!"

He hollered, and scrambled to catch up with his sister.

Grace smiled and went inside, as did her husband.

By the time they were eating in the windowless dining room, Francisco had finally pulled up in the parking lot. A bundle of nerves, he found Karnage's car instantly and flung open the trunk, hastily searching through the suitcases but finding nothing of interest…..And then he found…._it_.

Sandwiched between a blouse and worn-out pair of slacks in one of Grace's suitcase was a necklace with a circular silver pendant. Engraved on the back was: First Anniv. October '39. A ring that Karnage had given Grace for their first anniversary. Perfect. Simply to test the wolf's reaction, Francisco slammed the suitcase (and then the trunk) shut. Much to his supreme misfortune; Karnage (and his family) walked out of the diner at that moment.

Unable to control himself with the shock of seeing Francisco near the (only somewhat) ajar trunk with Grace's pendant, Karnage blurted:

"What een de **hell** are you doing with my beautiful wife's necklace?!"

"Don't you dare come any closer, Karnage…."

Francisco's voice was an icy snarl.

Turning to Grace in his anger, Karnage muttered in a low voice:

"I'll keel de bastard and get eet back!"

Grace's voice took on a nervous edge as she grabbed her husband's arm.

"Felipe, that's what he WANTS you to do! And besides, a necklace you gave me isn't near as important as **you** are…."

Karnage was a stubborn wolf in his anger. He briefly grasped Grace's paw before edging away and giving Francisco a stony glare.

"You... stay away from my wife."

"I never wanted your damn wife."

"Hey, watch the language!"

Grace yelled curtly, but was ignored by both parties.

"I know your name for a reason Karnage…in my family…..we don't forget."

Francisco pulled a short-barreled Webley from his pocket and shakily pointed the gun at Karnage.

"And neither do we een mine!"

Karnage had his revolver out.

Grace was shaking in fear. Alice and Leo had looks on their face that couldn't clearly be defined as shock or quiet awe. Grace lunged forward only to be restrained by Francisco who backhanded her roughly.

"You stay out of this fight, you bitch."

"Not if I have anything to say about it!"

Grace muttered icily and chomped down on his paw and wrist.

Karnage meanwhile, gave Grace a 'get-out-of-the-way' gesture, and she did so while he pointed his gun at Francisco. The wolf intended to shoot the Dogfather's son in his chest, but he moved and took some steps back so that the only target was his slightly-extended left paw.

"May you rot een infierna…."

Karnage pulled the trigger.

The bullet only took off Francisco's furred pinkie; upon which rested the family signet ring. Screeching and sobbing with the pain, Francisco fled to his car and roared off before anyone could even **think** about stopping him.

Alice meanwhile, had wandered to look at the pool of spattered blood containing Francisco's finger and the ring. It was made of solid gold, inlaid in obsidian and depicted a gold griffin with 'do or die' written below. The family motto.

"Dad, what does D.V. mean?"

Alice was squinting to read the initials on the ring because of her glasses and general poor eyesight.

"D.V…"

Karnage felt a chill run through him and held his gun at the ready, baring his teeth. The wolf stared at his shaking fist. So long as there was his family; there would also be Luciano's.

"Who?"

Leo had eavesdropped.

Karnage glanced uncertainly at both his children.

"Dees...dees very bad dog who is not- as we say- very nicety-nice. Before you were born he almost killed your mama and I."

Grace gave him not A look. T_he_ look as they got back into the car. _Did you have to tell them this young?_ Not surprisingly, the rest of the drive was spent in silence.

* * *

Little had happened upon getting to Karnageport. Grace and Karnage went out of their way to act as normal as they could around their children, and upon getting to the hotel, Karnage showed his children the prism windows, which they loved.

It was now 12:30, and Alice and Leo had long gone to bed in their own room- it adjoined Grace and Karnage's and had two doors; one leading into their parents' bedroom next door and another opening into the hallway. The children (not that they'd wanted to) had gone to bed at ten, although Grace and Karnage were still wide awake.

Grace, emerging from the bathroom in her pajamas; examined her surroundings for the umpteenth time. It was a quaint but not overly-luxurious hotel room, damp whereas the rest of Karnageport was a living furnace; and with two beds with oddly-patterned quilts and delicately rusting headboards, so that the whole room seemed to be aging gracefully.

Yawning, Grace staggered onto the bed on the right, where Karnage was sitting, and plopped down on the edge.

"Got you, querida."

He smiled.

Grace wrapped an arm around him.

"Hey."

They kissed.

"I'm not even gonna try to describe how much I love you."

Grace whispered.

"Can I talk to you about something, though?"

"Si."

_Damn, why am I bringing this up again...?  
_

"Why did your father do... what he did to Helena?"

She blurted.

"He was de word. A sadistic prick who deserved far more than he got."

"Did you ever try to kill him?"

"…..Si. She wanted to but never deed."

He looked like he was going to say something more but didn't instead.

Grace felt her eyes droop, and she wanted to escape the awkward-ish mood anyway.

"I think I'm going to bed now. I'm sorry I brought that up.."

"Okay, querida. And eet is fine, my splendid spouse- you deed not upset me in the least."

They hugged.

"Why, I'm de happiest and de luckiest wolf in the world."

He kissed her.

They said their good-nights and went to bed. Grace still felt terrible.

Little did they know that a tiny shadow in the hallway had been listening. Leo had been standing outside his parents' bedroom door, wearing pale grayish (non-footed) pajamas with a biplane motif, and clutching the tiny red toy truck he'd had for years and years since his first birthday. He had also eavesdropped on an earlier conversation about his aunt Helena's being molested. Such things were not for six-year-olds to hear…..But Leo suddenly wanted to know more.

* * *

Grace couldn't sleep. She woke up at about 1:47 that night, and blinked groggily, rubbing at her eyes.

"Felipe?"

She mumbled.

"You still awake?"

She was aware of her husband's presence in the bed but could not feel his body brush against hers as he shifted- whether in sleep or wakefulness she did not know. In the inky black it was as though Grace was isolated in her own private universe alone.

"Si."

A soft voice whispered.

Grace smiled faintly, and Karnage kissed her.

"Hola, mi amor."

Lovingly, Grace kissed him back.

"Look,"

She said in a serious tone after they were done.

"I still feel bad about what I said, earlier. I know what happened to Helena left a big impact on you and I should have been a little more sensitive to your feelings."

"I should never have mentioned eet Grace….I'm sorry. Eet was my fault."

His words did not entirely reassure her, and after a time, Grace sat up.

"You didn't mention her, I did. Or did you mean talk about her in general?"

Were she not so groggy, Grace would have been confused.

"Mi familia…. Dey tried to make eet seem like she never exeested…."

"Why?"

"Dey got reed of almost everytheeng she owned….Dey never spoke of her."

He wept silently.

Grace tried her best but felt it truly wasn't enough.

"Will you be okay?"

She asked, straightforwardly.

"I am meesing her….I felt as though she stopped me dat one day…."

Grace thought for a moment.

"It's late, you know...Maybe we should forget about all of this and get some sleep."

"Si."

Karnage sighed and slapped himself in the temple.

"All dat talking to myself…..Karnage you estupido!"

Grace gave him as playful a slap on the shoulder as she could muster, and was barely on target given the darkness.

"Nah, you aren't, not half as bad as me anyway."

He laughed, but hugged her as he did and Grace hugged him back.

"Night."

She settled back against the pillows.

"Buenas noches, mi amor."

They kissed for a moment before drifting off in sleep.


	4. Chapter Four

**Chapter Four**

It was in the wee hours of August 17th, 1945, that Francisco diVenazetti called Shere Khan's private phone number from a hotel in an undisclosed location. Shere Khan had trusted diVenazetti with his phone number and he firmly hoped the dog would be reliable. His prayers were answered as the phone rang, with Francisco on the other line, saying:

"Hello, is this the Shere Khan residence?"

At that very moment, Khan was sprawled on a luxurious fuchsia chaise lounge in a dark purple bathrobe, delicately eating caviar from a ceramic bowl.

"Indeed it is. Francisco?"

"Yes."

"Did you accomplish your task?"

Francisco paused.

"Yes... It went...well enough, Mr. Khan. What are my next orders?"

"Search Karnage's home. I will give you the address only once, so listen very carefully."

Francisco got out a notepad and jotted down the address.

"And where might I find this street?"

"Southshire; in the state of Urbandale. Take a team, and head west."

"Thank you very much."

"My pleasure."

Francisco hung up and began to prepare.

* * *

Eventually, dawn came; bathing the town of Southshire in gray, cobalt, and shades of dullish red. Francisco (along with a team of eight) had returned to Southshire. As they emerged from the parked limousine on the curb, Francisco kept reading and rereading the scrap of paper on which he'd written the address. Upon finding Karnage's house, Francisco approached the steps and heaved a nervous sigh.

"Here we are…."

He approached the door and tried the knob. He should have known better, but the optimist in him said that maybe the Karnages had forgotten to lock before leaving on their vacation. Francisco's optimistic side was of course, wrong.

"We go in through….The basement windows."

Francisco indicated the basement visible from where they stood, and the narrow window into it.

"One at a time, carefully now."

Francisco carefully opened the dusty window and lowered himself through it, leaping onto the bare wooden floor.

The basement was little more than an all-purpose room in which various miscellaneous junk-filled boxes were crammed from ceiling to floor. Francisco snorted distastefully but waited for his comrades.

"All right, gentlemen…."

He said when everyone got in.

"I don't think there is anything in this basement except for garbage. So we will go upstairs. Split up; look for anything that might be valuable- but might not be noticeable- and is at least small enough to carry. If you have a suitcase, put it in there. As for you, Chicken Fat….You're coming with me."

Francisco turned suavely to face a bulldog/terrier mix with nondescript, brownish fur everyone called Chicken Fat; due to the popular rumor that as a young adult he'd walked around biting the heads off of live chickens.

"Yes, my Dogfather?"

Chicken Fat knelt.

"And I repeat myself: You're coming with me."

"Sorry boss. I wasn't listenin'."

"You had better be this time!"

"Yeah, I will. Scout's honor."

"Very good."

Together, Francisco and Chicken Fat departed up the stairs, eventually choosing to go to the second floor.

Standing in the hallway; Francisco narrowed his eyes and looked at the choices of doors they had (all of them open)

One led to Grace and Karnage's shared (master) bedroom; the other to Alice's, one to Leo's, a bathroom, what had once been the nursery but now converted into a guest bedroom (although guests were rare), and one other door that had a tiny brass padlock on it. Having no locksmiths with him, Francisco did not bother to decipher the mystery of that door and yanked Chicken Fat's arm, dragging him towards the master.

An ordinary if not spacious blue wallpapered room awaited them. Wide, square-ish windows were to the left and right side of it. To the far left side of the room was Grace's dresser and her wardrobe, as well as a multicolored, art-deco box where she kept her pieces of jewelry.

Also on the left side there was another dresser (this one Karnage's) and a rapier was mounted to the wall beside it. Immediately, Francisco (having an intense love of jewelry) began trifling through the unmarked little box.

"This sure is a nice place, boss!"

Chicken Fat commented, opening a dresser drawer and shoving some loose bullets, along with a dagger, into his pockets.

There was no comment from Francisco. He was busily searching through Grace's jewelry box and had found, so far: a string of pearls, an old ring with an imitation diamond in it; and a noveau-looking pair of earrings she hadn't worn since 1928. There was also a silver bracelet with a charm shaped like a crescent moon on it, and a heart-shaped locket that was strangely empty. That was all.

Slipping the locket over his own neck and pocketing the rest, Francisco carefully placed the jewelry box back on the dresser top and moved slightly to the left, examining his reflection in Grace's mirror. It had been discarded next to a tiny black-and-white photograph of a pint-sized Alice sitting in her mother's lap.

Brushing it aside, Francisco was just starting to look at the top of the dresser for more objects of value, but stepped aside as Chicken Fat took over.

Instead of searching the top of the dresser however, he popped open one of the drawers, and, lustfully held up a delicate turquoise pair of Grace's panties.

"Can I take her panties, Francisco? Can I?"

"Chicken Fat!"

Francisco glared at the deranged mutt scathingly, and backhanded him with a black-gloved paw.

"You have a filthy mind. Put that back in the drawer!"

"Okay..."

Chicken Fat looked downcast but put the panties back.

An hour later; Francisco, Chicken Fat, and the other six members of the party were done searching the Karnage household. They left with several pieces of jewelry, two antique family photographs, and some small daggers. They could have taken more, but given the circumstances chose not to. And besides, nobody would ever notice. Hopefully not; anyway.

By the time the dogs disappeared into the limo with Francisco at the wheel, they were already racing off into the blazing August morning, and all trace of their presence in Southshire was all but gone on the sickly breeze.


	5. Chapter Five

**Chapter Five**

The remainder of the month of August flew by under the Karnageport sun. Grace walked long and hard into the natural temple that was the pine forest; once staying out until dinnertime. She and Karnage would frequently do things with the children as well; every Sunday they'd drive somewhere and do something local, like swim. The local pond was a popular meeting place for local 'snobs' (as tourists were called), most of whom were lizards come to get some sun from Karnageport's infamous heat.

Karnage, Leo and Alice would go gallivanting into the pond; but after a while Grace got agonizingly bored sitting there on the shore in her bathing suit, smashing gnats and mosquitoes with a rolled-up newspaper.

Leaving her little campsite behind, Grace had declared "CLEAR THE WAY, I'M GOING IN!" and leaped, with a loud screech into the water. After dogpaddling (no pun intended!) at the shoreline for several minutes, Grace waded in deeper and went to sit on a rock, to get some sun with her dark fur.

The top portion of it was slick with moss, however, and after a few minutes Grace lost her footing and hurtled into the deep end with a_ Splash! _A barely-decent swimmer; Grace could just barely do anything above a dogpaddle, let alone hold her own on the deep end of the pond.

Voicing a muted plea for help as she struggled to keep afloat in the water, Karnage found Grace and they emerged (as their children still playfought in the water.) onto the shore, soaking wet but grinning victoriously, with Grace smiling sheepishly.

The snobs had all laughed, but it had been worth it.

* * *

A little later in the month, after that- they'd all eaten lunch on a mossy knoll in the woods called Dead Man's Curve where, Karnage explained, stock car racing had been all the rage at the turn of the century. He'd certainly gotten up Alice's interest; as she wanted to know if anyone had actually died there. The answer, surprisingly, was no; but many people had badly wrecked their cars and given up the sport because of the challenge of dodging the mighty curve.

Now; August 28th was finally here, and they were due home. None of them were aware that an ill-timed blast from the past was coming….

"Who's driving?"

Grace asked mildly as she and Karnage prepared to enter the car; the kids already in the backseat.

"I'll do it, querida."

They got in. "You wanna go anywhere?"

Karnage gulped.

"I am wanting to go to….An old place."

Grace winced and eyed Alice and Leo, sitting in the backseat. Leo was sprawled towards the right, licking a piece of lime rock candy. Alice was parallel to him and sitting on her knees; a look of sheer boredom on her face.

"Um….Where?"

Grace nervously squealed as they were driving out of Karnageport. She timidly turned a head towards the backseat.

"Mi familia's casa."

Grace, who knew enough of Karnage's Spanish; knew that he meant 'my family's house' and winced. What was left of it anyway; since it had burned down following a 1939 fire.

"Uh, Felipe, can you pull over?"

Karnage brought the car to a stop on a peaceful dirt road in between two lush meadows.

"Why do you want to go back there?!"

Grace gasped, blatantly surprised.

"El hijo de puta no necesita un marcador, el esta ardiendo en el infierno."

Karnage lowered his voice even further, to a vehement, pain-choked snarl.

Grace's eyes widened in horror. She hoped she'd misunderstood.

"Did you say what I thought you said….?!"

"Si. De son of a bitch doesn't need a marker; he's burning in hell! Desecrate a grave….Someone lying dere doesn't need to be remembered….."

It was a miracle the kids never heard.

"And how are you going to do that?"

"I'll turn de culo's stone over and smash eet."

Karnage growled, his eyes blazing with years of repressed hate, and Grace glanced backwards.

"What about the kids?"

Karnage cringed.

"I'm furious with their…their...Grandfather."

_How dare they have a memorial to honor him? He never honored anyone in his life!_

Karnage thought bitterly as he remembered the funeral that had intermixed with his and Grace's wedding; reflecting on the fact that Pablo had been given a tombstone at all- he had vehemently refused against such a thing. But he had been outvoted by distant members of the family; especially those from Espiana, the vague, faraway country across the ocean from which some of the fraternity had immigrated to Usland. But that is another story completely. As Karnage slammed the door and stormed up the road, Grace turned to Alice and Leo in the backseat.

"Leo, Alice, your father and I have to do something... personal for a while. It's going to be hot in the car; so you probably should wait out there in the shade."

Grace pointed to a bent-over willow tree on the right side of the road, which at least offered some shelter from the blazing summer heat.

"Okay, mom."

Alice sauntered off.

"Okay."

With the car vacated and parked by the road, Grace scrambled to catch up with her husband.

The dirt road was incredibly dusty, and as her sandal-clad feet scraped against the ground; the silhouette of a burned structure grew nearer and nearer, and the erratic throbbing of Grace's heart only got louder.

As she got closer, Grace could see it was a disturbing mixture of burned wood, stone, and shattered colored glass (from stained windows no doubt). And she could make out burned, twisted lumps of what had probably once been furniture; as well as what seemed to be ruined chunks of an oil painting. Karnage was nowhere to be seen. Grace got cold chills.

"Felipe?"

No answer.

"Damnit…"

Grace thought aloud, and ran to find her husband, instinctively guessing as to where he would be: The graveyard.

Vaguely remembering it had been behind the house, Grace ran behind the partially-upright, charred south wall and glanced ahead at the lush meadow beyond.

As she remembered it, the family graveyard was situated still behind the house, in a jungle of crabgrass, various weeds and kudzu. The actual grass starting to die in places even though it was summer, although it was lush and green in others. The only tree in sight was a decaying willow tree, and Grace instinctively ran to Karnage as she saw him standing near one of the stones at the back and muttering what sounded like a string of Spanish curses.

Grace wanted to ask why he'd just ran off on her, but the feeling of vague annoyance died as soon as she saw the look of callous hate building in her husband's eyes as he glared icily at his father's stone. It was plain, unadorned, soapstone; and contained Pablo Karnage's birth and death dates. Nothing else.

"Maybe I should have stayed with-"

Grace quietly interjected; seeing Karnage's very personal rage. He just shook his head silently; fists clenched, and took a few steps back. Aiming a powerful kick at the headstone, Karnage just managed to remove the top, and with it his father's name. The rest of the stone fell into a sloppy pool of dampening mud. Quietly, the wolf turned it over so that the grave rested in the mud inscription-first. His cutlass tip rested upon the stone.

Grace nervously eyed Karnage. His eyes had taken on a glassy, unfocused look; and he'd emotionally gone elsewhere due to the raging torrent of emotions in his mind.

"Felipe? Felipe, are you all right?"

Grace whispered, half to herself. No response. Grace turned as she heard the sound of smaller feet crunching on the dying grass. The children.

"Alice, Leo?!"

She called, seeking them out.

"You were supposed to wait in the sha-"

Grace paused midsentence as she saw her children. Seeing their father on the tombstone, with his unfocused stare of hate and also depression, Alice was trembling, Leo maybe a bit less. But they were both visibly in a state of shock.

"Dad... Daddy?"

She choked, a small tear landing on the sole of her pitch-black mary-jane.

Leo seemed to fade into the background and wandered among the graves in an odd fashion. Alice, however, did not.

"I'm sorry, Dad…"

She whispered in a barely audible voice, and sank her small teeth into his leg. Hard. The jolt of the shock was enough to snap Karnage out of his pseudo-catatonia.

"Alicia!"

He yelped.

"Alice, why did you bite your father?! ... Just...How dare you?"

Grace blustered, not sure whether to be angry or surprised or both. Alice stared down at her feet and brushed some grass from her skirt.

"Mommy…I was trying to help Dad!"

Suddenly they all realized- Alice had simply been attempting to get Karnage out of his state of shock.

Breathing hard, Grace looked behind her. Leo had been wandering among the graves the entire time. He exhaled raggedly.

"I'm sorry."

Grace was almost disturbed at her son's passive (and dare she think so…) possibly even uncaring behavior that gave her cold chills. Not much was said on the way home.

* * *

It was shortly after dinner by the time Grace and Karnage got home. Grace, (before unpacking) decided she wanted to have a few words with her husband in regards to the incident at the graveyard. The two of them were sitting in rickety basement chairs now; glasses of lemonade between the two of them, Grace holding her face under her paws.

"What happened to you at the graveyard?"

She blurted, though Karnage only stared at the floor.

"I…I went into shock."

"Over what?"

Grace asked; even though she figured she knew.

"Dey gave dat murdering hijo de puta de mierda a gravestone…"

"I'm so sorry..."

Grace offered her paw.

"…He doesn't deserve to be remembered for de theengs he deed."

Karnage wept openly.

"I…I know. If there's anything you need... I'll try to do the best I can do for us both."

There was a pause.

"I'm sorry for scaring de kids."

Karnage confessed.

"I'm…..Confuzzled."

He sobbed again.

"You want to do something to get your mind off of this?"

Grace asked concernedly.

"Si."

Karnage smiled affectionately at her and they kissed.

"You wanna stay down here?"

"For a while, I theenk… I am happiest weeth you."

"So am I."

Out of nowhere, Grace gave her husband a mild but playful slap across the muzzle. His brow furrowing, he stared at her, puzzled.

"What een infierna was dat for, Grace? Why deed you smack my eencredibly handsome face?"

"I wanted to!"

She admitted.

"To hell with it."

They kissed again.

Time passed. Grace had some beer, and Karnage went to the living room to listen to (believe it or not) the adventures of Danger Woman with Alice and Leo, who always hogged the radio in the evening.

Then, the wolf and the dog gravitated towards their bedroom to unpack at last. Karnage was first in the door; and no sooner had he entered than an alarmed scream issued from his throat.

"Grace! Grace, mi querida, mi amor, we've been... We've been robbed!"

Grace's head was spinning already.

"Felipe?! What the hell is going on here?"

"Mi abuelo's rapier ees gone...estolen! I don't know if dat's all dat was taken…But watch de children."

Calling the police was of course, out of the question; given how paranoid Karnage was of them. Even Grace knew it was that obvious, so she didn't dare ask.

"Grace, have you arm-ed yourself suffeeciently?"

"Yes...I've got my gun, right here..."

Grace yanked her revolver from within her sleeve.

Karnage raced back into the bedroom, and Grace followed him. The room was a mess: There were claw marks in the walls; the bedsheets were disorganized and pulled back, and chest drawers had been pulled open and some of them were lying on the floor. Karnage knelt on the floor, breathing raggedly as he removed a section of carpet by the foot of the bed, revealing a loose piece of wood, concealing something Alice and Leo would never think to look for.

Yanking it off, Karnage fished out his own gun from the space and attached it to his belt, checking to make sure it was loaded. It was.

"I know Alice can use my cutlass."

He muttered, half to himself.

"Geeve eet to her, tell her to use eet well."

Grace flinched.

"Are you sure?"

"Si, if we meet de pejendo's responsible for dees in here…"

Karnage's voice trailed off.

The wolf flinched as he heard light footsteps on the stairs.

"Alice?"

Grace called hesitantly. She knew how to identify her daughter's step because it was lighter and significantly more careful than Leo's, but wouldn't know if it was Alice for sure till she got a voice response.

"Mommy?"

Alice's voice echoed from the landing.

"Grace…."

Karnage yanked Grace's sleeve.

"Breeng her een and tell her."

Karnage sat shakily down on the bed, gun in one paw and cutlass in the other. Grace ran to find her daughter and explain what was going on. As soon as they could find him they'd tell Leo as well.

After ninety panicked minutes of searching; the robber (or robbers) never were found, and everyone went to bed early. Grace was so exhausted that her plans to tell Karnage of her likely pregnancy were cast aside and forgotten.

* * *

Meanwhile, the next morning, in Cape Suzette; it happened to be August 29th, and Rebecca's birthday. Kit, Baloo, and Wildcat had trekked across town to Molly and Rebecca's apartment for the occasion; and Baloo's nerves were shot as he went up in the elevator with Kit on his left side and Wildcat on his right.

"You doing all right, papa bear?"

Kit asked concernedly, tugging at Baloo's sleeve. Baloo swallowed.

"Um….Yeah, Little Britches; I'm a-okay."

He forced a smile, but part of it was sincere, since there _was_ something nostalgic about calling a nineteen, almost-twenty year old little britches. Speaking of which; Baloo still couldn't believe how much Kit had grown up during the war. He was a lot taller now, obviously, had more muscle in his arms and legs (which said that he'd been working out somehow) but he had never lost that mischievous gleam in his eyes.

The elevator dinged as it went up and Baloo kept his eyes on the floor numbers.

"I hope Rebecca likes my present, it was awful expensive…"

Wildcat gulped.

He clutched a plain, packaged box in his arms. It was a dog-eared manual entitled _Air Pirate Evasion Made Easy_ and was a paperback edition of a book newly released the previous year.

"Yeah, I bet she will, Wildcat. What'd you get her again, Kit?"

"Just some flowers. Violets; her favorite."

Kit shrugged and shifted the lace-wrapped bouquet from paw to paw.

Baloo sighed and glanced at what he held in his own paws: A thinly-concealed jar of strawberry jam.

Now, the elevator clanged to a stop; and with a slight rattle, the doors opened at floor five. Baloo still remembered Rebecca's apartment number: 688.

Baloo, Wildcat and Kit marched up to the door; and Wildcat rang the bell.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY REBECCA!"

They all chorused (well, Baloo said Beckers)

"How nice of you! Look at all of you, all dressed up; I just can't believe this!"

Rebecca beamed as she opened the door. Instead of her usual maroon sweater and purple slacks; today she was wearing a delicate pink housedress with a darker red sash. She was still very much the birthday girl.

They all shuffled inside; and in Rebecca's newly modeled kitchen, the table had been set with a red tablecloth and some candles. Taking the gifts and setting them aside for later; Rebecca took a chocolate cake from the counter, which clearly was homemade.

"Molly made this for me, would you believe she's only thirteen?"

She smiled.

Baloo gave a low whistle.

"She must be a regular first-rate chef then, Beckers!"

Rebecca nodded and put the cake on the table.

"Can we eat the cake now? Please? I won't make a mess or spill my water, I promise..."

Wildcat begged, but Kit rolled his eyes.

"Wildcat, we gotta wait. I'm assuming we gotta sing happy birthday to Rebecca first. Right?"

Rebecca again nodded her confirmation.

"Yup."

"Say, Becky, where do you keep the candles?"

Baloo had wandered over to the counter and was pawing through the cabinets. Rebecca _did_ wince a little even now.

"They should be in the blue packet on the top shelf."

"Found 'em."

Taking ten candles from the packet, Baloo placed them in the cake and fished around in his pockets for the matchbook he'd brought along. Finding it, Baloo (in tandem with Kit and Wildcat) sat down.

Lighting the candles, Baloo leaned back in his chair and smiled. He couldn't help but held Rebecca's paw in his own, as she sat next to him, but soon she let go; and Kit, Baloo and Wildcat serenaded her with the birthday song.

As Rebecca was blowing out her candles, Molly appeared in the doorway.

"Hey, guys! I miss anything?"

She smiled slyly.

Kit took off his Navigator's cap (He'd gotten a new one since outgrowing the last but still kept the first one safely in his room) and bowed goofily to Molly as she entered.

"No, Molly! Not in the least, come on in!"

Rebecca laughed as Molly dragged over a chair and sat down. Out of all the people he'd seen infrequently because of the war, Molly would have to be one of the most-changed. Now thirteen years old, she was an adolescent female bear with naturally golden fur, a sly but still innocent smile, and overlong strands of fur that threatened to hang in front of her eyes. Despite becoming a teenager; Molly's initially brave, selfless personality remained. Although (Baloo noted) these days she could be a bit nicer to her mother.

Looking pretty in a dark red dress in a necklace of black beads, Molly smiled at her mother and started to cut herself a slab of cake but Rebecca intervened.

"Molly Elizabeth Cunningham! Have you had your breakfast yet?"

Molly started wistfully at her plate and sighed.

"No, Mom..."

"Then go see if we have any pancakes left. Remember; it IS the most important meal of the day."

Molly went to go serve herself breakfast while Kit, Wildcat, Baloo and Rebecca remained at the table devouring the cake. When the time came for presents; a look of blatant surprise flashed across Rebecca's face as she tore the wrapping from Baloo's jam jar.

"Baloo!"

"Like it, Beckers?"

He chortled, and slapped his knee.

"I just got you that as a gag. Remember that time I got away with hidin' a real ruby in some jam?"

Kit laughed.

"We really fooled ol' Karny that time!"

Karnage.

Baloo shuddered instinctively. He didn't know why the wolf was suddenly dominating his thoughts in an almost supernatural way, but he was. Perhaps Karnage had died in the seven-year gap between their last meetings, or else gone to jail As much as they disliked each other, Baloo hoped neither of these were the case.

"Don't give me that look, Baloo!"

Rebecca smacked him playfully on the shoulder.

"Are you still thinking about that... that woman you were on the cover of Lives with?"

"Her name was Evey! And she was cute!"

Kit rolled his eyes. Some things would never change.

* * *

Meanwhile, as morning faded to afternoon; Francisco was lounging in a Cape Suzette hotel room when the phone rang. Stretching from his bed, he rose and got it.

"Hello?"

"This is Francisco diVenazetti, am I correct?"

Shere Khan's voice purred.

Francisco gulped. He hadn't contacted Khan in a month since the mission.

"Yes it is. Mr. Khan?"

"Yes. Why have you not contacted me Mr. DiVenazetti?"

"I was on vacation overseas; in Thembria."

"You like to vacation in a communist country, Mr. DiVenazetti?"

Khan raised an eyebrow on the other line.

"Or do you just want to hide from me?"

"N-no!"

A note of fear entered Francisco's voice. "Absolutely not, Mr. Khan!"

"So, where have you been? Would you like to tell me?"

Silence.

"Mr. DiVenazetti, you are trying my patience now. Are you evading my question?"

"No. No I am not."

"Then why don't you pay me a visit at my office?"

"Why must I?"

"How _did_ your mission go?"

More silence.

"Not so well, I'm assuming?"

Khan chuckled.

"I made sure my spies were trailing you the whole time; in the red Chevrolet. Come here now or I **will** send someone to fetch you."

Khan hung up.

Seeing as he had no choice, Francisco made the long voyage to the Khan Tower and as he entered the lobby, was met by three suited male lions with what seemed to be guns concealed in their belt holsters.

"Are you Mr. DiVenazetti?"

One of them asked.

Francisco nodded.

"I am."

"Mr. Khan wants to see you."

"I know. He told me."

Francisco flinched as he was half-led half-dragged to the elevator in the center of the room and steel handcuffs were slapped on his wrists.

They went all the way to the top; and when the elevator reached Khan's office, Francisco was shoved out.

"A pretty sight, isn't it?"

Khan smiled as Francisco was led, handcuffed into the office. The tiger himself sat calmly at his desk. He indicated Chicken Fat's corpse, lying prostrate on the floor, a pool of blood emerging from a bullet hole in his cranium.

"He was executed before you."

"EXECUTED?!"

Francisco snarled as the guards pushed him into the wall.

"Yes, executed. Any last words, Francisco?"

Francisco stared at the carpeted floor, fists clenched, teeth bared. A low, anguished howl rose up in his throat

"KHHHHHAAAAAANNNNNNNN!"

He went silent and fell to the floor as the bullet ricocheted into his chest, striking the heart. An instant, perfect kill. Blood spewed from Francisco's still-open mouth as his lustrous eyes continued to stare blankly at the ceiling.

Shere Khan smiled callously.

"Next time there will be no more blunderers….."

No passerby lived or breathed to see that stunning fatal shot to Francisco's narrow chest. It was concealed safely behind Shere Khan's office drapes. Striding to Francisco's corpse, Khan trifled with the dog's coat pockets for a few minutes before pulling out a crumpled scrap of paper. It read:

Plan: Kidnap Leo Karnage(?)

Kidnap Leo Karnage?! Khan smiled. What better a way to manipulate Karnage than through his son? Still grinning, Khan indicated his guards to leave and sat down at his desk to think.

* * *

A beautiful late-summer morning was unfolding as Grace woke. Groggily turning her head to the left, she glanced out the window. The sky was a brightly-painted turquoise; the clouds silky and fragile, drifting idly by. Moaning groggily with the dull pains in her stomach, Grace curled into a ball as she squeezed her eyes shut and tried to recall what had happened earlier that morning….

Four hours ago

_The tiny black letters on the alarm clock read 6:58. Grace awoke, Karnage snoring beside her in the bed, with a feeling of warm bile in her throat. Throwing back the bedsheet, Grace staggered out of bed, out of the room and into the hallway, hoping fervently she could make it to the bathroom._

_Once inside, Grace needed to lean on the wall to support herself, and for a terrifying instant feared she wouldn't reach the toilet. Kneeling over the toilet with her head bowed, Grace violently heaved until all three of her meals yesterday were a sticky, congealing mess within the bowl. Panting and gasping, Grace wiped an oozing strand of bile on the back of her paw and limped to the mirror._

_ She looked dead. There were darker circles of fur around her eyes; (as well as a look of crazed disorientation), and a smeared mask of greenish slime around her muzzle. The eerie sight itself almost made the half-awake Grace throw up again, so she staggered back and curled up on the rug._

_The brewing of an early-morning thunderstorm and the dull, barely audible thump of Grace's body hitting the floor awakened Karnage from his usually heavy sleep. Unconsciously, he turned over and sought out with his paws the warmth of Grace beside him; just as he'd done every night for the past seven years. Except this time, Grace wasn't there._

_Running to the bathroom, the wolf found Grace, sitting up on the bathroom floor, looking groggy, bile coating her snout. The wolf knelt on the floor and gathered her into his arms._

_"I'm okay... Perfectly fine…."_

_She assured him drowsily, burping and then clamping an embarrassed paw over her muzzle._

_"I….I think I might be pregnant again, though."_

_Karnage laughed; both out of happiness and relief._

_"I think I'm about a month and a half along, but I don't know, I haven't gotten any tests done yet."_

_Grace continued, and yawned, closing one eye._

_"I…. No, querida, you could not have given me better-er news. This is a time of rejoicement."_

_Karnage breathed._

_"I agree."_

_They didn't kiss, but Grace wiped some vomit off her snout and smiled with weary eyes._

_"Ugh…Can you help me get back to our room?"_

_She moaned after a while, getting to her feet. Grace shakily stood for a few moments but started cussing when her legs wouldn't support her. Karnage picked her up and heaved her into his arms gently; which wasn't easy._

_"I'm so tired…"_

_She croaked._

_"Eet's okay, querida. Let us be getting you back to bed."_

_He murmured, and ran a paw through her dampened fur. It was no surprise that Grace nodded off as soon as they got to the bedroom door._

_Karnage gently laid her on the bed, took Grace's forest green slippers off, and drew the rumpled bedsheet around her before crawling into bed, eventually falling asleep with his arm protectively around her shoulder._

Now, Grace yawned and glanced to her right to see if Karnage was awake. It turned out he was, so she yawned and said

"Hi."

Her husband smiled lovingly at her, unable to tear his gaze from her face.

"I had no idea you were awake."

Grace sat up, adjusted her collar and rubbed at her sore eyes. He nodded silently.

"So, are you still worried about….Yesterday?"

Grace glanced at her empty jewelry box which she'd moved to the nightstand, a reminder of what had occurred, and sighed.

"Si. I am not knowing what to do….After you slept, I spent almost all of last night pacing de house weeth my pistol."

Grace winced.

"Did the kids wake up?"

"Alice deed. She came to me weeth my cutlass again and offered to take up watch. I hugged her and told her I was guarding de house. She refused to go back to her own bed."

Hearing a faint rustling, Grace looked around. Alice (who it turned out had slept on the floor of her parents' bedroom out of fear of the house being attacked again) had crawled across the bed in flannel pajamas and smiled shyly at her parents.

"I love you, daddy."

She hugged her father, and Grace smiled, but felt momentarily embarrassed over her and Karnage's still-bedraggled appearance (what with their creased pajamas and vaguely bloodshot eyes), even though she knew her daughter was far too young to really care.

"Alice! Can you give your father and I time to get out of bed before we go downstairs and have breakfast?"

"Hi, mommy!"

Alice scrambled to sit next to her mother on Grace's side of the be.

"Sorry if I bothered you. I didn't mean to."

"Baby, you're not. Your father and I will be down in a minute; can you wait for us in the kitchen? Just don't wake your brother."

"Sure!"

Alice scrambled to the other side of the bedroom, shakily picked up her father's cutlass from where it lay on her pillow on the floor, saluted him with it and darted out of the room with the sword in her paw.

After their daughter had hurried down the stairs to wait for her parents, Grace turned to Karnage.

"You don't mind that she uses your sword all the time? I don't want her getting hurt."

"I know it's probably...dat word but I've taught her fencing weeth eet. Not weeth a partner, just showing her de moves. She can copy my moves perfectly." Grace shrugged and said:

"Well, so long as you make sure she doesn't accidentally hurt somebody or herself with it….Fine by me."

"Dose were de two rules I set, querida."

Karnage assured her.

"No hurting herself, no accidentally hurting someone else."

"So what are we going to do to make sure no one breaks in again?"

"Keep watch. I'm not going back to sleep, querida."

"And neither am I."

A few minutes later, the two of them rose from bed and so began the day.

After breakfast, with all the stealth and secrecy of a covert spy, Alice ran upstairs, crept into her parents' bedroom, yanking the phone off its table and gathering it into her arms, running back to her room to call her cousin Elisa. She didn't want to be stuck inside all day today; least of all when it was such a beautiful day out.

Drawing her blinds, Alice sat down on a chair and dialed her cousin's phone number, instead getting her aunt Rosa.

"Hi!"

Alice said in her most grown-up, Grace-ish voice possible.

"Grace, is that **really** you?"

"Actually, no. This is Alice. Can I speak to Elisa?"

Rosa sighed.

"Yes. Wait a moment, I'll get her for you."

There was noise in the background, and Alice could hear Elisa darting about as Rosa departed and the phone changed paws.

"Alice? Why are you calling?"

There was blatant annoyance in Elisa's voice.

"Well, excuse me Miss Stick-in-the-Mud; I just wanted to come over!"

"Now is a REAL swell time, Alice. I'm grounded!"

Alice had only been punished occasionally, and grounded only once.

"Why?"

Elisa winced on her end of the line.

"That brother of yours and I were playing baseball by ourselves yesterday; he threw a baseball through old-man-what's-his-name's window and then told everybody I did it! Now I'm grounded for a week. I tried to tell mom that school starts in less than a week and that nobody else is grounded but she wouldn't listen."

She sighed.

"I'm really sorry Elisa. That must be tough."

Alice could genuinely sympathize with her cousin, however she found Leo's actions bizarre to say the least.

"But can't I still come over? Please? I won't stay long, I promise..."

"Well….."

Elisa lowered her voice to a dangerous whisper.

"Yes. But we have to tell my mother that we're going for a walk."

"But where **are** we going, Elisa?"

"Someplace secret. I'll tell you when you get over."

Alice squealed in excitement and hung up the phone.


	6. Chapter Six

**Chapter Six**

Alice changed out of her pajamas and into a plaid skirt and blue sweater before returning to her bedroom. Taking a deep breath, Alice went to the windowsill and threw the window open, squeezing her narrow, still-small body through and out the frame. There was an empty trellis just below the sill. With shaking paws, Alice gripped the wood with all four of her paws and began to shakily climb down; flinching at the summer heat.

Finally, she reached the bottom of the frame and hit the soft grass beneath with a tiny _Oompf!_ Rising and shaking dust and grass off her fur and clothes, Alice hurried out of the yard and out to the driveway; taking care to run as fast as she could before her parents or Leo (especially Leo) saw.

Running down the block or so to Rosa's house, a winded Alice ran up to the door and banged on it a few times before Elisa answered.

"Hi Alice!"

She exclaimed, then dropped her voice to a whisper.

"Wanna go to my yard and talk?"

"Sure."

Alice giggled.

Acting like spies like this was fun; even if it meant they could get in trouble if caught, that just raised the stakes even higher, and Alice Karnage and Elisa Hawley were two danger-loving girls.

Elisa's yard was full of weeds, dead grass, and a fast-decaying garden with a small stone fountain, some chive plants, and some wild grass. Sitting down on the damp, mossy soil, Alice studied her cousin's face.

"So where are we going?"

"A place. Down the road; maybe another mile. They say it used to be a looney bin; where they kept the crazy people So are we goin' or not?"

"Duh!"

Alice was on her feet.

"I told my mom we were just takin' a walk. I think she bought it."

Elisa reassured Alice, speaking around her paw.

"I'll tell you more when we get there."

"Okay."

And with that, they took off out of the yard.

* * *

Elisa and Alice spent the next twelve or so minutes half-running half-jogging out of town and down the road. Eventually the paved road turned to soft dirt, and the well-cut backyards and family homes turned to soft, rolling meadows, ragged fields and crystalline summer skies of post-suburbia.

After a while, Alice and Elisa stood face to face in front of the ruins of what had once been Blackvale Lunatic Asylum; built in the late 19th century to house the feeble-minded, the delusional, and others. Once grand and foreboding, nearly all its windows were shattered now (the others boarded up), and there appeared to be no sign of life. Bricks were falling out of the plaster, and the sloping roof was covered in decades of bird excretion. Despite its deserted appearance, Alice already felt fear growing within her and taking root.

She winced and swallowed hard, already unnerved. Although the dare had seemed exciting when she and her cousin had first talked about it, entering the abandoned asylum was another thing entirely. She was none too sure if she could handle this, but did not want to back out.

Unfazed, Elisa grinned at her younger cousin.

"Whatsa matter? Can't handle a few ghosts and goblins, Little Miss daredevil?"

"Of course I can!"

"Then why'dja look so scared?"

"I'm not scared."

Alice countered, doing her best to sound tough and unafraid.

"Yeah, you were!"

"Shut up, Elisa."

Alice muttered, walking up towards the building's stone front steps.

"Let's just get this over with okay? I'm not a baby... I can do this. I'm not scared."

Alice exhaled slowly, trying to keep up a calm composure.

"Well, if you say so…."

"And you're not the boss of me, Elisa. So stop grinning like you run the universe."

Elisa looked blatantly surprised, but said nothing.

"Okay, let's get this over with."

She muttered under her breath after a while, and led Alice to the dust-coated brick steps by her arm.

"Yoohoo…Anybody home?"

Elisa flung the creaky door open and called into the velvet abyss. Alice's stomach churned at the eerie sight of what awaited them, but she swallowed hard and forced herself to stay calm.

"Elisa, you screwball!"

Alice tried to keep her voice lighthearted, and punched her cousin in the arm.

"Hey…"

Elisa gave her a bit of a glare but kept going.

Alice gave her weak eyes time to adjust to the gloom of Blackvale's entry hall, fixing her glasses so that they balanced over her eyes and wouldn't fall off and break.

The lobby had a musky, earthy smell to it; and light seeped in through a few smashed windows. Some old-fashioned furniture could be viewed peripherally; a moth-eaten maroon settee, a handsome brown leather ottoman with fading brass legs, a marble fireplace with a hooked bass mounted above its hearth, and a vandalized portrait of a beautiful leopard in a black dress.

Apart from a smiley face that had been drawn on said portrait; the lobby of Blackvale looked more like an old-fashioned hotel than an insane asylum. Maybe this would not be quite so hard after all; assuming the rest of the building was this underwhelming.

"Come on….This way."

Elisa led Alice down a narrow hallway with terribly old-fashioned turquoise paint-chipped walls decorated with a white fleur-de-lis pattern, and into a small dayroom. There was a knitted brown shag rug, several rocking chairs, and what looked like children's toys scattered across the floor. Wide, shattered windows let in sun and cast shadows over the carpeting. Elisa shuddered.

"I think this used to be a dayroom of some sorts where they'd let the patients hang out."

"Elisa, how do you know so much about Blackvale anyway?"

Alice was getting curious.

"Ohh, I got dared to come in here a couple times last year; on this same day too. Not my walk in the park."

An arching, sloped set of mahogany stairs led someplace upward. Neither of the cousins knew that everything they would see from the staircase onward was the world of old Blackvale; undisturbed, unfettered, and unexplored. Nobody was brave enough to venture up those creaking attic stairs.

Alice kept glancing behind her on the way up, but stopped after a while as she knew this gave Elisa pleasure, and continued to walk with her head held high. After ten minutes….They reached the attic. Elisa didn't even flinch, and Alice mimicked her attitude as best she could.

The attic however, was stocked to the ceiling with disturbing tokens of the asylum's heyday: Pickled fetuses of varying species were preserved in formaldehyde jars, and there were several dictionary-thick books lined up on shelves with titles like _Cerebral anatomy of the common madman_ and _Clinical dissection: A guide for the student_.

Hung up on racks, there were a few decaying straitjackets. Then there were the copper and metal muzzles with their thick leather straps; rusty syringes in small cases, and eerily of all: A wooden, 1890's, government-issue electric chair.

For a moment, Alice was terrified Elisa would grin and say "Sit in the chair." But she did not. And miraculously; Alice was able to keep a straight face the whole time as they walked past the electric chair. As the cousins neared the end of the attic, scrawled writing became clear on the walls; ancient messages like

I AM BAD

Or

SOMEBODY LET ME OUT OF HERE!

And even:

I want to die.

The writing was scrawled in what appeared to be the finest of black pencil, and yet oddly it stood out. Alice felt cold chills run down her spine as Elisa walked her past the writing, and then the chair again, and back to the shelf where the fetuses were. Hanging on the wall above the shelf was a magnificent charcoal portrait of a small kitten's face and shoulders. His fur was jet black, and his one eye seemed malformed. A tacked-on caption labeled: _Self-portrait of Leon Roy Badgett Apr. 1901. Cyclopic. Deformed. Born; Jan. '97. Mother is feeble-minded and prone to fits._

"Ahh. Poor kid. Wondered if he was a crazy."

Elisa mused aloud.

They were nearing the stairs now, and Alice felt a spurt of sympathy for-four-year-old Leon (apparently an artistic prodigy) wherever he might be now.

Eventually, they headed back into the lobby.

"So…We go home now?"

Elisa started to say, but then let out a terrible scream as the floorboards splintered beneath their footpaws with a jarring _craaacckkk_ and Alice and Elisa found themselves submerged in a gloomy, terrifying netherworld.

Involuntarily, Alice whimpered in the dark, immediately clamping a paw over her muzzle afterwards. Too late. Elisa heard.

"What's the matter, Alice? Chickening out after all?"

"No. Never."

Alice growled.

"And I can't BELIEVE you're still talking about this! Can't we just shut up, work together and try and find a way out?"

"All right, if you say so...But your dad is such a crook."

Alice's heart skipped a beat. Of course she didn't know the truth about her father's occupation yet; but obviously, she was still deeply outraged at Elisa's sullen, underhanded remark.

"My dad, Elisa, is not a crook. That'd be like saying your dad was a deadbeat. So can we just stop fighting?"

Alice sighed in ragged exasperation.

"Okay. Let's get out of here."

"See, was that so bad?"

_I swear Elisa, you're so weird._

Alice thought, but didn't dare say so aloud.

"OW!"

"Are you okay, Elisa?"

Alice followed her cousin's voice.

"Yeah….I ran into a wall by accident. My nose is bleedin'."

Alice groped in the dark and put her paw on top of Elisa's.

"I think I got a tissue…"

Yanking it from her pocket, Alice handed Elisa the tissue. She jammed it into her bleeding nose and they continued onward.

"Smells like something burned in here..."

Elisa muttered, coughing dryly.

Alice said nothing, still holding on to Elisa's paw, depending on her like they were both deaf and blind.

A smell of smoke registered in Alice's nostrils, and she cringed involuntarily.

"OW!"

Alice yelped, tripping over a sharp object and falling forward, her foot sliced and bleeding.

"Alice? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I think I tripped on a piece of glass though...Ow..."

Shakily regaining her footing, Alice groped for Elisa's paw and they continued, seeing a faint light in the distance.

"I think I can make out one of the windows."

Alice gasped, and staggered towards it, Elisa walking in tandem with her. Sure enough; a grimy, dead-bug covered and broken-open basement window loomed in front of them. Alice slipped through it, and Elisa followed.

"I'm NEVER doing that again!"

Alice vowed, stamping her uninjured foot.

"Whew! Me either. Now go home and go take care of your foot. My mom and your folks can't know!"

"Got it."

They split up then, and ran for home.

* * *

Meanwhile, in Cape Suzette, a jackal was riding an elevator. Norman Abbington was not a man to be trifled with. Tall and arrogant with a broad back and shoulders; he first entered the world on October 18th, 1893 making him a full fifteen years older than Felipe Karnage, (and in Abbington's own opinion) hopefully fifteen times smarter. Becoming head of the Usland's CBI (Civil Bureau of Investigation) back in 1928, Abbington took his job damn seriously which was more than he could say for anyone else.

The jackal stared impatiently at his watch as the cage-style elevator soared higher and higher through the Khan Towers; stopping at the 30th and top floor, which housed Shere Khan's office.

"Mr. Khan?"

"Ahh, Mr. Abbington!"

Shere Khan was not sitting at his desk; but rather hunched over an artificial pond off to the left, where four silver fish with beady crimson eyes swam hungrily. The tiger was smiling mysteriously as he opened a rusty tin labeled _Sardines_ and dropped the tiny pickled fishes in the water. The piranhas swarmed around the meat, each one fighting to devour it in their tiny jaws and needle teeth. Abbington couldn't help but gawk at the odd spectacle. Khan noticed, and his smile widened.

"Admiring my piranhas; are you? Yes, they certainly are little cannibals!"

He discarded the empty tin in the wastebasket.

"Yes... I can see that."

"Now, what have you come to talk to me about?"

"I'd like to speak to you regarding a Felipe Karnage."

Khan stared at Abbington as though he'd seen a ghost; but momentarily regained his cold smile and took a seat at his desk.

"Karnage? ….How interesting; have a seat. I insist."

Abbington pulled up a rose-wood chair with a dull fuchsia cushion and sat.

"I could never refuse an offer from the head of the CBI. What would you like to know, Mr. Abbington?"

"Everything that you know, sir."

"I see that you don't beat around the bush...Very good, I like that in a man."

Khan paused to scribble a signature on a waiting paper.

"But I'll have you know I **do** know Karnage's current whereabouts."

Abbington's heart began to throb in his chest. Karnage had been, without a doubt, one of the most dangerous and notorious Air Pirates to terrorize Cape Suzette only to have vanished practically into thin air seven years ago. If he managed to apprehend Don Karnage and bring him to justice...He could only imagine there would be a handsome reward. He took a deep breath and asked:

"Then can you tell me?"

"I'm afraid not. First, I have a favor that you must do for me…"

Abbington leaned forward in his chair.

"And that is?"

"That's not for you to know at this time, Mr. Abbington. I think I'll give you a call and tell you all about it later tonight. That will be all."

"Thank you for all your time, Mr. Khan. I really am indebted to you for letting me come, and talk to you..."

"It was nothing at all. Good day."

And with that, the jackal walked towards the elevator and left the building; a feeling of cold, inescapable fear enveloping him already. He sincerely hoped that Khan was someone he could put his trust in. He was not too certain what would become of him if otherwise...

* * *

It was twelve noon by the time a winded Alice staggered back into the house.

"Mom! I'm home!"

She called.

"Where's Leo?"

Craning her neck into the kitchen, Alice peered around.

Grace, who had set aside some sweet corn on the table, turned to greet her daughter.

"Alice, where were you? Leo's in his treehouse; just like usual."

"Right."

Alice rolled her eyes. Leo's most private domain was indeed the treehouse he'd gotten for his fifth birthday last year. Karnage had certainly spared no exaggerated expense in giving his only son a treehouse fit for a prince, built by Ratchet. They had designed the building to look like an old-fashioned biplane

"Alice, please answer my question. What were you doing?"

"I was with Elisa. We uh…Played at her house for a bit and then we took a walk. To the park."

It was only now that Grace looked to the floor and realized her daughter was barefoot and tracking blood all over the floor.

"….Why are you barefoot? Alice, give me an answer. Please."

"I... forgot my shoes. Sorry mom."

"Uh-huh….And what did you step on?"

Grace was rummaging around for things to clean Alice's injured foot with.

Alice hesitated.

"….A piece of glass. Or metal."

"Was it rusty?"

"I don't know."

"Alice, what do you mean you don't know?"

Grace was wincing as she took a bottle of iodine from the cupboard.

"Excuse my language, Alice, but this stuff hurts like hell. I hope you can handle it better than I have."

Grace unscrewed the bottle and dipped a q-stick into the liquid iodine. Alice got onto a chair, and suddenly remembered the feel of the sharp objected she'd stepped on- it was smooth and cool; not jagged and rough, the way a rusted piece would have felt.

"I remember now. What I stepped on, I mean….It wasn't rusted."

Grace heaved a sigh of relief.

"Thank goodness. I would have hated to have taken you downtown to the doctor's office for a tetanus shot- well, you and me both."

Grace shuddered; extremely phobic of doctors.

"Hold still, baby, while I put the iodine on."

Grace took the now liquid-coated tip and rubbed it over Alice's cut. She winced, and Grace grabbed her daughter's paw with her free one and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"Hang on, I'll get you a bandaid."

Grace slipped out of the room and returned a minute later with a cardboard box of adhesive bandages, putting one over Alice's drying wound.

"Alice, is there any reason why you just ran out like that?"

"No. I was just…In a hurry, that's all."

Grace wasn't convinced.

"In a hurry enough that you didn't even bring your shoes?"

"Um…..Yeah."

Seeing the nervousness, Grace softened her tone and spoke completely non-condescendingly.

"Alice, I'm not mad at you. I just want to know where you were."

Alice sniffed.

"Mom, I...I went to Blackvale!"

Grace mopped her brow with a sigh. She was astonished that her daughter had dared to venture to the abandoned and extremely dangerous old asylum; but relieved she had escaped with only a single cut.

"Alice, let's wait till your father comes home before we talk about this anymore. Maybe you should go see if Danger Woman is on."

"Okay!"

Alice raced into the living room to get to the radio before Leo did.

* * *

Leo sat sprawled on the floor of his treehouse; watching pale rays of sunlight creep in through the clear window frame. The young wolfdog lay on his belly, scribbling florid poetry with colored crayons on yellow notepad paper. Leo wrote about things that no other 6-year-old would write about; or even know about to begin with.

Leo's careful script was not the sloppy scrawl of most other children his age, but neither was it the painstaking, not-quite-right cursive he would learn in school that fall.

Hearing a familiar, upbeat humming, Leo froze and got to his paws and knees. He ran to the window and pressed his face against the glass, looking down.

His father was crossing the street and coming up the drive! Leo was suddenly ablaze with emotion. Throwing open the window sash, he called: "Dad?! Hi Dad!"

Before Karnage even had time to react, Leo was climbing down the wooden ladder and running to meet him. Even in his extremely introverted nature; it seemed his father was the only one he wanted to please.

"Leo, Leo, my plundering protege!"

Karnage swept his son up in a hug; finally back from a long day of plundering.

"How have you, and your sister and your fabulous mother been?"

Leo snorted; looking amazingly like his mother.

"I'm bored. I was writing all day."

He indicated the crumpled scrap of paper in his right paw where the poem was written. Karnage scanned it for a moment, clearly impressed.

"Leo, I'm going to smooth thees and frame eet! I am theenking that de work of a prodigy such as yourself deserves to be seen!"

Leo looked shy.

"Really, dad?"

"Si, si! Like the son, like the father, as they say..."

"Thanks dad….And I uh, I missed you."

Karnage hugged his son.

"I meesed you too, my boy. But there is no time for de sadness and the tears and the carrying on now that I am home, yes-no? And how...how has your mother been?"

Karnage jokingly asked Leo as he kicked the stone.

"Herself."

They both had a laugh briefly, and then Leo darted back into the inner universe within his treehouse, happily content with scribbling out very developed poetry with the unsteady writing hand of a child.

About ten minutes later; Alice was sitting on a rough wooden stool, swinging her feet idly. She flinched as Karnage entered; her father already having had a conversation with Grace about what their daughter had been doing. Grace herself, feeling upset about Alice's actions; had gone on a walk in the hopes of getting out some stress.

"Alice?"

Karnage froze at the center of the room.

"Yeah?"

Alice looked up.

"Your mother told me that you had been a very mischievous, marauding little girl today- and not een a way I approve of."

"I'm sorry, dad…"

She hung her head.

"Of course I am glad that you left that abominable asylum with... minimal bodily harm; but you should never have taken your especial little self there to begin with...Now tell me, Alicia, were you alone? Or was there someone else with you?"

Alice knew what her father as asking. She sighed.

"... I went with Elisa. She dared me to go there."

Karnage exhaled heavily and adopted a cross expression.

"Then I will have to be having a very long talk with her; wheech may or may not include resorting to de turnips and de sandpaper..."

Alice swallowed hard.

"But what about me?"

"Being a wolf of mercy, Alicia, I will let you off easily dees time. But never, ever go running off on your dear mama and I again unless you have a growned-up person with you. Comprende?"

"Okay."

The wolfdog nodded stiffly, making it all too clear that she understood. And simply hoped that her father would not be angry at her for very long.

* * *

Time went by, and meanwhile, miles away, a slow dusk was settling over the harbor city of Cape Suzette. Baloo, Kit and Wildcat were staying over at Rebecca's apartment for dinner; and a party that would stretch well into the mid-evening. It was now 7:02, and dinner had long been served and eaten. Baloo had maneuvered his bulky form in front of the radio to sleep off the massive supper he'd just devoured. The bear flinched as Kit appeared and turned the radio off.

Baloo bolted upright.

"Whydja do that Little Britches?!"

He protested, and scrambled to turn the radio back on.

"I just wanted to talk to you, Papa Bear. It won't be long; I promise."

Kit smiled and settled onto the green, moth-eaten sofa beside Baloo.

"What about?"

Baloo leaned into the couch, tossing aside an uncomfortable throw pillow that had been propped behind his back.

"The war."

"What about it?"

"Well, I got drafted, you know."

Baloo turned to Kit with a look of blatant shock.

"Drafted? In what branch?"

"The army."

"Little Britches, I never knew you were in the army…."

"It was last year."

Kit rolled up the sleeve of his thin corduroy pants to reveal a thin scar running down the bottom of his right leg, stopping just above his foot.

"I got stationed in Pierredonia, when they were storming the beaches. Got shot in the leg right there."

He grimly indicated the scar.

"The army doctors said it's a miracle I can walk without a limp."

"Did the shell go all the way…?"

Kit gingerly pulled his pant-leg back up and shook his head.

"No. It barely pierced the bone."

There was a slight pause, then Kit smiled mysteriously and said:

"But they said I can still fly. So I'm still your navigator."

"Oh Little Britches you'd always **have** been my navigator no matter what! I promise."

"I know."

The younger bear hugged Baloo, and they embraced for a moment, before Baloo said:

"But we've got to move on as best we can now; all of that was in the past. Now that we're back together things'll be normal, right Little Britches?"

Baloo glanced to Kit.

"Yeah."

Kit quietly adjusted the collar of his shirt; deep in thought. He certainly hoped so.

* * *

Back in Southshire; the remaining hours of evening faded away to nightfall. Karnage made a mental note to talk to Rosa about her daughter's actions- and then Elisa herself- as soon as he found the time, and slept; completely exhausted.

_The darkness in Karnage's dreams was velvety and intimate. Soft, seemingly endless; he had no idea whatsoever where he was, or even where he was going. Only that he had to keep walking forward, as though compelled by some invisible force._

_Eventually, he came to a stop and found his paw turning an old brass doorknob. He did not know what waited for him behind the door and wanted more than anything to turn back; but could do nothing of his own volition. The wolf kept walking, as though he were a marionette being controlled by some invisible puppeteer._

_The room he had entered apparently had once been a nursery; although it contained only perverse, vestigial traces of anything childlike. An overturned bed with a brass frame. A rocking horse that had been smashed in two, and an array of expensive dolls whose hair seemed to have been plucked from their heads. Several pots of wilted, dead flowers._

_Perhaps most frighteningly, a dried and cracked; congealed trail of blood…. His heart pounding in his chest and trembling from fright, Karnage slowly looked up towards the other side of the room and was startled to see that he was not alone._

_A young wolf of no more than thirteen was in the room with him as well. A skeletal, slumped-over figure in a polished wooden rocking chair. Her hair was such a fine blonde it was practically white; and had a slight wave to it; and with one eye blue and the other green. Although she had the makings to one day become a beautiful woman; she was still very much a preadolescent, gangly and skinny, with no curves in sight._

_She had a heavy look in her eyes, of agonizing pain and undeniable sadness. And yet she said nothing. Only continued to rock. Horrifically, Karnage approached the silent figure only to see her decompose into a carcass before his very eyes; with withering flesh and exposed bones. Only her eyes had any traces of color, as horrifyingly bright as they had been in life._

_And they were staring directly at him._

Karnage did not know what would have happened next had the dream continued, but he knew, with an inborn certainty that he did not want to know. It took everything in his resolve not to scream and wake the peacefully-sleeping Grace who lay beside him.

Shaking all over and drenched in layers of cold sweat, Karnage shuddered in the humid and uncomfortable bedroom. The face, the horrible face- that of his long-ago sister, a corpse- would never leave him.


	7. Chapter Seven

Karnage was quick to jolt awake; tightly clutching his chest. The wolf was covered in sticky, sopping layers of cold sweat. He gasped and wheezed erratically; out of breath as the last twisted vestiges of the nightmare, at last, begin to fade.

Sitting up, he glanced over at Grace, who lay beside him. The dog was sound asleep and drool pooled across her pillow. Keeping perfectly silent and determined not to wake his wife, Karnage began to think. He thought briefly back over the contents of the terrible, macabre dream he had just had and what they could possibly signify.

Suddenly, it was all too clear.

He really had let Helena down, all those years ago. The least he could have done was protect her from harm and comfort her when it mattered. And even in that respect he had failed. Rosa had been a more responsible sibling than he was! He had always been Father's favorite. Perhaps that was why he had never dared to speak out.

As the eldest, **she** should have been the one to look out for the younger two. And suddenly, all too soon; they were thrust into the role that would have been better suited for Helena's. Karnage had not been able to ease her pain. She had thought the only way to do so was to take her own life.

If only he had gotten her to listen to reason….!

But he hadn't.

A heavy fatigue fell over Karnage as he contemplated his future. He saw nothing out there save for an unwelcoming, endless void. Perhaps there really was nothing left for him. Not even the most minute, material pleasures- such as plunder, money, etc.- had any value to him anymore. Nothing did.

Pulling back the sheets, the wolf produced a little brass key tied with a pale pink ribbon from within the nightstand. Then he got up from the bed and trudged off into the hallway. Going to the one locked door across the hallway, Karnage inserted the key into the lock; and it sprang open.

Shutting the door behind him, he crawled into the suffocatingly narrow space that had been intended for use as a closet. It was empty save for a paint-chipped little wooden stool; on which rested a picture of Helena at an indeterminate age. Nothing else.

"I am sorry, Helena….."

He murmured, wiping dampened eyes on his sleeve.

"Sorry there was nothing that I could be doing for you."

There was nothing left he could do for anyone anymore.

Grace awoke a little after two in the morning; to dull, aching cramps in her abdomen and a sour taste in her mouth. Realizing her husband was not beside her, she got out of bed with a frown and checked the bathroom. Empty.

Wondering where it was he could be- with growing concern- Grace left the bedroom, trying not to double over with pain as the cramps worsened.

"Felipe?"

She murmured, staring out into the gloom.

"Een here, Grace….How….How very nice of you to be joining me!"

This was followed by a round of forced, nervous giggling on Karnage's part.

"Where?"

She asked, not being able to make out much of anything in the darkness; nearly stumbling. Then she bumped up against the little closet door and realized. Trying the doorknob, Grace saw that it was unlocked. Karnage was sitting on the floor in front of a photograph of his sister, trembling.

"Felipe, just what in the world is going on here?"

"Nothing, querida, nothing; now please, enough of your foolish fretting, my beautiful brunette. Eet ees nothing that you should concern yourself with."

Grace only frowned and watched as he got up and left, not convinced at all.

"Felipe, 'nothing' doesn't explain why you have a picture of your dead sister in this closet….Or what you were doing here to begin with."

Karnage winced- he was right, Grace **did** have every reason to question him. He should have been more open with her than he had- and yet, there was still a part of him that was on the defensive. And that was indeed how he was feeling when he said:

"Are you trying to say that I am _at fault_ for meesing her?"

"What? I didn't even suggest it! Honestly,"

Grace shook her head.

"I was only trying to help."

Her tone had softened somewhat, and Karnage already felt the pain of remorse for acting as he had.

"I can't say that it's not strange that I found you out here, at two in the morning no less. But if you miss Helena I promise I'll give you all the respect and space you want. I shouldn't have just barged in like that. Goodnight."

She gave him a faint, solemn smile and drifted off.

Guilt washing over him for having snapped, Karnage now felt obliged to apologize with his undoubtedly exhausted pregnant wife.

"Buenas noches, mi amor…. I am sorry I was acting on de defensive. Sometimes I'm a leetle too much of de….de word, for my own liking. I am sorry."

His tone was somber, heavy with regret as he spoke. He had been in such a state of despair this whole night and had let his emotions get the better of him.

"Don't be, it's late…."

She yawned.

"I'm going back to bed. Why don't we talk this over in the morning when **both** of us are feeling up to it?"

"Si….. I am theenking dat would be de best for us both, Grace."

And with that, the two returned to their bedroom; hoping the morning would be a fresh start for the both of them. Karnage, though, at least felt a little bit buoyed. Perhaps there was a chance he could find a way out of his anguish.

* * *

Abbington had been dozing fitfully in his bedroom when the telephone rang. It took him several seconds to become aware of this; a heavy sleeper. It was sometime late at night or very early morning when he awoke, judging by the inky darkness visible through the slanted blinds (Abbington always slept with his bedroom lights on, having a terrible fear of the dark)

"Hello? This is Norman Abbington…."

He slurred, reaching for the telephone on his bedside table.

"Ahh, hello Mr. Director. So I see that I've caught you awake….I'm sorry to have caught you at such an unfortunate hour, but you see I have a very long and very…demanding workday here at Khan industries. Can you meet me at my estate uptown?"

"Where is it?"

Abbington rummaged through the drawer of his solid ebony nightstand and produced a pad and pencil. Khan rattled off the street; and the jackal hurriedly wrote it down.

"Thank you, sir."

"The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Abbington. I hope to see you soon."

The silkiness in Khan's voice was barely audible as he quietly hung up. Abbington however, glanced down at his creased pajama shirt and boxers with a sneer of distaste, and hurried off to change into clothes more appropriate for meeting with the head of a million-dollar corporation, stuffing the address into his pocket when he did.

Just as the CBI director was about to leave home and hail a cab uptown, his phone rang again. Getting slightly annoyed, Abbington answered (now fully awake).

"Hello?"

Abbington flinched. He instantly recognized the voice that would reply:

"Norman?"

It was sleazy, young, gravelly, and slurred with intoxication. Abbington would recognize that voice anywhere: His prodigy and top agent; a thirty-six-year-old silver fox named Liam Porter. Although he had a stable home life with his wife, Porter also had a chronic drinking problem, and frequently could be seen in dark corners of his basement, typing out lord only knew what with his clunky old typewriter. He was anything if an enigma.

"Oh. Hello, Ports!"

Abbington was simply trying to jab at Porter, knowing he hated any form of nickname bestowed upon him.

"Do not call me Ports! I detest that!"

Porter growled in his signature old-fashioned speech.

"I know, I know, so just cool it; you little primadonna."

Abbington rolled his eyes.

"So where the hell are you, Porter? And why are you calling me?"

"Presently, I am outside a bar on Main Street; using the appropriate pay phone. Do you wish to drink with me?"

Abbington hesitated. Main Street was one of the blocks he'd have to cross to get uptown, and Khan would probably give him plenty of time in advance. So a drink with his buddy Ports for old time sake was not completely out of the question.

"I'll be right there. What bar?"

Porter told him.

"Thanks. I'll see you."

"Good evening."

Porter hung up.

Abbington hailed a cab and walked to Main Street. By then it was starting to drizzle, a welcome sight in Cape Suzette's summer heat. Abbington stuck to himself on the left side of the street, passing by the pay phone he thought Porter may have called him from. Arriving outside the bar, he opened the door and strolled in.

"Abbington! Over here!"

And there Abbington saw Porter, at the center of the bar, sitting on a stool in front of the slick mahogany counter, slurping a beer and burping drowsily. The jackal winced. Porter was not a pretty sight while drunk.

"Coming!"

He called, and ran to sit beside the fox.

Porter was broad-shouldered, stocky and somber of face, with dispassionate brown eyes that gleamed cold like bronze. Now that he was drunk as he was, they were coated with a dull glaze, and there was a slump in his shoulders. His naturally bluish-silver fur was well groomed, and he was dressed in a khaki suit with a beer-stained, off-white shirt; and a loose forest green tie. His pants were a little old-fashioned, and his shoes seemed to be from some earlier era.

"So, Porter, how art thou?"

Abbington quipped in an offhanded attempt to mimic the fox's speech. Porter did not approve, and glared, taking a long drink.

"I will have another!"

He said, and triumphantly raised a ring finger when the bartender asked him if he would have what would be his tenth drink. When asked if he wanted anything, Abbington said he would have champagne.

While waiting for his drink, the jackal decided to lean across the glossy counter and talk business with Porter.

"You're gonna have a real nasty hangover in the morning."

Porter did not respond.

"Anyway, on with business. Right now I'm working with believe it or not, Shere Khan."

"Shere Khan?!"

Porter stopped drinking and stared at Abbington with bulging eyes.

"The one and the same. Does the name Don Karnage ring a bell to you Porter?"

The fox nodded mutely.

"Indeed it does."

He said in a hushed stage whisper.

"Now what I have here, is an opportunity to not only turn in Karnage, but get in quite the reward- at least, that's what Shere Khan has been hinting at, if I go along with his orders. Would you be interested in….sharing the reward money?"

A million possibilities flashed through Porter's head. Abbington grinned.

"….Yes."

He breathed.

"So, you wanna go with me to Khan's place then?"

"Indeed I will."

"Y'see, Porter, the deal only gets better if you stick with me. So stick with me!"

Here Porter just rolled his eyes, but got up and paid for them both.

"Do we walk? Or take a cab?"

"Nah, walk. We're not that far from uptown."

Porter wiped some alcohol off his muzzle, and started muttering lines from his latest poem under his breath. Abbington wasn't sure if he liked the sly grin on his face or not. But whatever. That was Porter for you.

So Abbington and Porter continued their journey uptown, but not before Abbington spent a decent amount of time getting Porter (mostly) sober, which was not easy. Eventually though, they were strolling through Cape Suzette's infamously pricey historic district, and then onwards to the generally upscale part of town before reaching….The Khan estate. Abbington felt dazed just standing outside of it. A hulking brownstone eyesore; it was designed with an arrogant gothic architecture in mind, with semi oval-shaped glass windows, a spiraling gray shingled roof, and a stylish oaken door with two tiger's head knockers.

"The history certainly shows."

Abbington muttered as he glanced up at it.

"Beautiful architecture, Norman. The 1830's was such a beautiful time in Cape Suzette, I've heard."

"Apparently so."

"I assume we go in now."

Porter straightened his lapels and took a few awkward steps forward, still slightly tipsy.

"Hey, easy there, Ports."

Abbington reached to steady the fox. He dodged his higher-up's paw easily and shot him an icy glare.

Porter beat the jackal to the steps and rapped on the door twice with gusto just as Abbington came rushing up to join them.

A decrepit old squirrel in a wheelchair, (apparently the butler) got the door for them. Staring at the prospective visitors oddly, he paused a moment to polish his delicate spectacles, and then said in a croaking voice:

"So, visitors. You've come to see Mr. Khan?"

"Yes, yes we have."

Abbington said briskly, shoving in front of Porter, trying to make a good impression on the servant, so as not to alarm him. (As Porter still looked a little intoxicated)

"Enter."

"Thank you sir."

Porter said graciously, bowing like a gentleman. The butler wheeled himself over to the door, opened it wider so they could enter, and Porter eased in, with Abbington fast in his wake.

Abbington gave himself a moment to take in the entry hall of Khan's mansion. It was not very remarkable, but it featured a narrow, jutting set of mahogany stairs that led up to a second floor, with what seemed to be a parlor and a dining room parallel to it. The wallpaper was grossly old-fashioned; and a gaudy blue color. Abbington secretly found this humorous, having assumed a rich man like Shere Khan would have wanted a more extravagant-looking front room at least.

"Oh, my word. Visitors!"

The butler called, picking a little brass bell up from a nearby table and ringing it vigorously.

"Excellent. You've shown them in?"

Shere Khan's voice echoed from somewhere.

"Indeed I have."

"Very good. I will be in my drawing room."

The butler disappeared into the parlor to the left, and it seemed Porter and Abbington were on their own.

Abbington darted up the stairs and followed the sound of Khan's voice to its source, while Porter followed behind him.

Khan's drawing room turned out to be little more than a sitting room. It had lush, dark blue wallpaper, with matching moldings. A red velvet antique fainting couch was set aside against the left wall, alongside it a table with a ledger labeled: STOCKS: FIRST, SECOND QUARTER on it. The windows were done sash-style, and the carpet was the cover of dark wine. A bookshelf partially blocked one of the windows, and Khan himself was seated at a rolltop desk, smiling enigmatically as the two CBI representatives entered.

"Hello, there, gentlemen. So I see you've finally decided to arrive. How are you both?"

"Well."

"Fine."

"Let's get straight to business, shall we?"

Khan prompted.

"Yes please!"

Abbington gratefully responded.

No comment from Porter, who was zealously going through the books on the shelf.

"So how did you first get involved with Karnage?"

Abbington inquired.

Khan shrugged.

"I was unfortunate enough to make a few….Bad deals with him several years ago. All of which I infinitely regret. He is now my enemy. You're aware of his…Gruesome deeds, I would assume?"

"Most certainly."

"Now Mr. Abbington, Mr. Ahh…."

"Porter. Liam Porter."

Porter called from the bookshelf.

"Mr. Abbington, Mr. Porter, I am in dire need of someone to hunt down Karnage and turn him in to the authorities. Would either of you be willing? The reward is quite sufficient, should you agree…."

Porter stepped forward.

"And how much will you offer?"

Khan smiled slyly.

"Would five grand be too much?"

"We'll do it!"

"Very well. Both of you may leave now if you see fit."

Khan continued.

"I will continue to brief you on the details of your mission over the course of today. In the meantime…. Enjoy the remainder of your evening, and hopefully get a good night's sleep."

He chuckled briefly at Porter.

"Goodnight men."

"Good evening."

"Good night."

Abbington left the room first, but Porter lingered.

"Mr. Khan?"

"Yes?"

"I do not trust you."

And with that, the fox scampered out. Even while Abbington himself was currently debating whether or not they should trust Khan, the tiger did not yet know this yet. All he knew now was that he'd reeled in Abbington and Porter (he was sure the fox's insecurities could easily be dealt with, with a few little magic tricks here and there) to a t. Hook, line and sinker.


End file.
